I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Sometimes people will ask me if I get lonely because my husband is gone so much. When people ask that, I start to reflect on the difference between "alone" and "lonely".
Because my husband is gone for at least 24 hours out of every 72, I spend a lot of time alone. At least a third of the time, I go to bed without my husband and have the house all to myself. I guess it could be a challenge for some folks. I mean, when you get married, you're supposed to have a counterpart, right?
But really, it's not as unusual as you would think. I mean, think about it, military spouses go to bed alone for months at a time when their loved one is deployed. Husbands and wives that work different shifts may not sleep side by side for months or years at a time, a spouse traveling for business won't be by your side. I think people only really wonder because our times apart are "scheduled", meaning we know for at least a year in advance the nights we won't be together (not counting, of course, overtime and trade shifts.) I think it's also that whole overtime thing (now that I mention it). When my husband picks up overtime, it doesn't mean he's gone for an extra 2, or 3, or even 8 hours...he's gone an extra day and night.
As I've gotten older, I've realized that "alone" and "lonely" are two very different things. Alone is a state of being, a physical situation. Lonely is a state of mind, a choice, almost an emotion.
I spend a lot of time alone, so I've learned how to fill that time up with things that interest me, keep me busy, or just allow me to have more time with my husband when he's home. On his shift days, I clean house, do laundry, spend time with friends, go get my hair and nails done...just whatever it takes to stay busy and feel accomplished and satisfied with my use of the time and space. And because I have that "me" time, I never feel like I'm missing out on time for myself. It also helps me to make sure that in the time my husband is home, we get to spend time together, and not focusing on menial tasks, or feeling like we're just passing in the hallway as we do other things.
For me, "lonely" is more about lack of attention or lack of feeling loved. I can be "lonely" in a crowded room. Just because there is someone there, doesn't mean you feel like you have a companion or counterpart.
Do I get lonely, by that definition.....sometimes. When my husband has picked up a lot of trade time or overtime, and I don't get to see him, I get lonely. I need that recharge time for our relationship. I need his attention and his time. I need him to show me that I come first.
Thankfully, he's good at that. Not all men are, regardless of their career.
I hear a lot of fire wives complaining about the amount of time they spend alone, and it baffles me. Most of them married someone that either already was, or was in the process of becoming, a firefighter. It's kind of what you signed up for. It's hard sometimes not to say, "Suck it up sister, this is what it is." But I think I really do understand. It goes back to the difference between being alone, and being lonely. These women aren't complaining that they have time alone, they are feeling lonely. It's important that they learn to communicate the difference, and that their husbands learn to spend the time and attention it takes to make sure that even though they are gone a lot, their wives don't feel lonely.
I wonder if there's a class for that? Maybe one of these fire training companies should come up with something like that....I bet the guys would sign up for it. After all, it isn't just about putting out the fire, it's about having something to come home to when the smoke settles. Maybe a course for wives would be a good idea, too. I mean, somewhere, someone has to have figured out how to communicate with our firefighters, right? Maybe we should just go old school, and use smoke signals.
So, when someone asks me if I get lonely, the answer is...sometimes. Good thing my husband knows how to help me buffer against those times by making sure that I never feel like he's too far away, I'm always wrapped in his love.
Until later.................
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Racism, stereotypes and other nonsense
A freeway in Houston is blocked because of protests over the verdict calling George Zimmerman "not guilty". Note that the verdict is "not guilty", it is not "innocent". Those are two very different things. It simply means that the prosecution didn't prove him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Not that they didn't prove that he might have made a horrible and tragic mistake....because we all know that he did, just that they didn't prove that beyond a reasonable doubt that Trayon Martin didn't have a role to play in that mistake.
Let's, just for the sake of argument, take the color out of it. Let's even take the gender out of it.
You're working a neighborhood watch. It's dark. It's late. There's someone walking through the neighborhood, with their head covered, and looking "gangsta". (Remember, the sweet angelic pictures we all saw were not recent....look at the recent ones, with the jeans hanging down almost to his knees, boxers showing, and middle fingers pointed at the camera)
Ok, so, here's this guy, you can't see his face, you can only see how he looks. What's your first reaction? Is it, "oh look, he went and got skittles and tea!"? I'm thinking not. If you're like most of us, your first reaction is to make sure the car doors are locked, and to get a little more alert about your surroundings.
Does that mean he's a bad kid? Hell no, it absolutely does not! In fact, statistically, he's probably a good kid. There are far more of those than there are of the bad ones. Otherwise, we'd have no kids on the streets at all.
However, let's be honest.....looks DO mean something. How you choose to present yourself to the world DOES matter. Remember your mom telling you that first impressions are the ones that last? It's true....sad, but true. And quite frankly, if the first impression is that you are someone that looks threatening....most people aren't going to engage you in conversation to find out that you're a boy scout. Seriously, they aren't. Is it fair? Probably not. Is it prudent? Probably so. I'd rather lock the door and drive away than end up dead in a ditch. Sorry, but that's the way it is.
Now, back to our little case study. You see the guy (no way you can tell how old he is, he could be 15 or 40) with his head and face covered, in a dark street, and your job is to report suspicious activity....you call 911. This is where our story should end. It is. The police would come, they would talk to this boy (that is what they are paid for, after all) and find out that he was just out for a snack. Or, they would talk to him, find out he was up to no good, and deal with the issue....crime averted. Tragedy averted.
So, where did this go so wrong? Our "not guilty" guy decided to engage. He decided on a little vigilante justice. And the young man fought back. And then he died.
Is it tragic? Yes, it's tragic. It's even more so because it was totally avoidable. There are so many places where this situation went terribly wrong. And while ultimately the responsibility lies with the man that pulled the trigger and stole a young life, I believe we're missing some bigger and potentially more important lessons here.
"Gangsta" is not attractive, gentlemen. It's frightening. It perpetuates a stereotype that I have heard so many young African American men get angry over. You want the stereotype to go away? Then stop feeding into it. Dress like a respectable young man, act like a respectful young man. I would expect no less of your Caucasian and Mexican-American counterparts, why would you want me to lower my expectations for you? Isn't that part of what you're fighting against? It shouldn't matter what the color of your skin is, if you want equal treatment, then earn it.
I understand discrimination. Believe me, I do. I have a vagina in a very male dominated workplace. Guess what.....I don't try to get ahead by displaying it. I don't get ahead by dressing and acting like a slut. I get ahead by rising above that, by meeting them at the conference table and just plain being BETTER at their own game. Like it or not, that's the real world.
We chide young women that dress like hussies for perpetuating a "trailer trash" stereotype. We discriminate against young couples that love each other but are the same sex. And yet, the loudest group that we hear from, are the young African American males, who want equality, but don't want to behave equally.
If there is going to be equality, then the simple fact is, we ALL need to look past the stereotypes at the person behind them.
But, I'll tell you this, I don't care what color you are......approach me on a dark street with your pants hanging down to your knees, and your face covered by a hoodie....I WILL consider you a threat and take appropriate action to protect myself.
And for those on neighborhood watch, if you aren't a police officer, trained and certified, stay in the damned car. Let the professionals handle it. Don't provoke a situation just so you can "stand your ground".....because if you provoked it, you have no ground to stand on.
Let's, just for the sake of argument, take the color out of it. Let's even take the gender out of it.
You're working a neighborhood watch. It's dark. It's late. There's someone walking through the neighborhood, with their head covered, and looking "gangsta". (Remember, the sweet angelic pictures we all saw were not recent....look at the recent ones, with the jeans hanging down almost to his knees, boxers showing, and middle fingers pointed at the camera)
Ok, so, here's this guy, you can't see his face, you can only see how he looks. What's your first reaction? Is it, "oh look, he went and got skittles and tea!"? I'm thinking not. If you're like most of us, your first reaction is to make sure the car doors are locked, and to get a little more alert about your surroundings.
Does that mean he's a bad kid? Hell no, it absolutely does not! In fact, statistically, he's probably a good kid. There are far more of those than there are of the bad ones. Otherwise, we'd have no kids on the streets at all.
However, let's be honest.....looks DO mean something. How you choose to present yourself to the world DOES matter. Remember your mom telling you that first impressions are the ones that last? It's true....sad, but true. And quite frankly, if the first impression is that you are someone that looks threatening....most people aren't going to engage you in conversation to find out that you're a boy scout. Seriously, they aren't. Is it fair? Probably not. Is it prudent? Probably so. I'd rather lock the door and drive away than end up dead in a ditch. Sorry, but that's the way it is.
Now, back to our little case study. You see the guy (no way you can tell how old he is, he could be 15 or 40) with his head and face covered, in a dark street, and your job is to report suspicious activity....you call 911. This is where our story should end. It is. The police would come, they would talk to this boy (that is what they are paid for, after all) and find out that he was just out for a snack. Or, they would talk to him, find out he was up to no good, and deal with the issue....crime averted. Tragedy averted.
So, where did this go so wrong? Our "not guilty" guy decided to engage. He decided on a little vigilante justice. And the young man fought back. And then he died.
Is it tragic? Yes, it's tragic. It's even more so because it was totally avoidable. There are so many places where this situation went terribly wrong. And while ultimately the responsibility lies with the man that pulled the trigger and stole a young life, I believe we're missing some bigger and potentially more important lessons here.
"Gangsta" is not attractive, gentlemen. It's frightening. It perpetuates a stereotype that I have heard so many young African American men get angry over. You want the stereotype to go away? Then stop feeding into it. Dress like a respectable young man, act like a respectful young man. I would expect no less of your Caucasian and Mexican-American counterparts, why would you want me to lower my expectations for you? Isn't that part of what you're fighting against? It shouldn't matter what the color of your skin is, if you want equal treatment, then earn it.
I understand discrimination. Believe me, I do. I have a vagina in a very male dominated workplace. Guess what.....I don't try to get ahead by displaying it. I don't get ahead by dressing and acting like a slut. I get ahead by rising above that, by meeting them at the conference table and just plain being BETTER at their own game. Like it or not, that's the real world.
We chide young women that dress like hussies for perpetuating a "trailer trash" stereotype. We discriminate against young couples that love each other but are the same sex. And yet, the loudest group that we hear from, are the young African American males, who want equality, but don't want to behave equally.
If there is going to be equality, then the simple fact is, we ALL need to look past the stereotypes at the person behind them.
But, I'll tell you this, I don't care what color you are......approach me on a dark street with your pants hanging down to your knees, and your face covered by a hoodie....I WILL consider you a threat and take appropriate action to protect myself.
And for those on neighborhood watch, if you aren't a police officer, trained and certified, stay in the damned car. Let the professionals handle it. Don't provoke a situation just so you can "stand your ground".....because if you provoked it, you have no ground to stand on.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Drama queens and "love" - rant ahead
I just don't understand people. I really don't.
Facebook and blogs are public places....just in case someone thought they were secrets. And when you air your private business in a public place, people are going to comment on it. It's just human nature. We want to give feedback, we want to express our opinions, offer solutions, tell you that you're making a mistake, offer sympathy or encouragement...whatever. But if you post it in a public place, you need to expect any/all of those types of responses. Everyone has a different view or personality, and just because you don't get a "poor baby" (on the INTERNET, for crying out loud), you can't get your hackles up and get all pissed off. If you want someone to feel sorry for you, talk privately to someone you know will feel sorry for you. BUT (and this is a big one), if you want honesty, at least from the perspective of the people reading your commentary, then post it in a public place. But be fair warned, you may not get all roses and rainbows blown up your behind, you might get a reality check instead.
And another thing. What the heck is this "love" thing people keep throwing around? You see, in my world, love doesn't come easy, and when it's given, it doesn't easily go away. You don't just flip a switch and stop loving someone.....nor do you just flip a switch and move on to someone else. Not even in just a physical relationship. I just don't get it.
I LOVE my husband. I can't imagine my life without him. And if he ever left me......like hell would I be out with someone else the next week, or even the next month. Because, you see, I love him.
Ok...rant over. Seriously, over.
Now for the good news! Tonight, I'm headed to see my mom and pop. I can't wait! I haven't gotten to see them since forever and ever and it will be so good to get to hang out with them!
AND I get to go hang out with another fire wife on Thursday for a while. It will be so cool!!
AND I get to see a friend that I haven't seen in almost 2 years, which means she hasn't seen me since my weight loss. Gonna be a BLAST!!
Have a happy Independence Day!
Facebook and blogs are public places....just in case someone thought they were secrets. And when you air your private business in a public place, people are going to comment on it. It's just human nature. We want to give feedback, we want to express our opinions, offer solutions, tell you that you're making a mistake, offer sympathy or encouragement...whatever. But if you post it in a public place, you need to expect any/all of those types of responses. Everyone has a different view or personality, and just because you don't get a "poor baby" (on the INTERNET, for crying out loud), you can't get your hackles up and get all pissed off. If you want someone to feel sorry for you, talk privately to someone you know will feel sorry for you. BUT (and this is a big one), if you want honesty, at least from the perspective of the people reading your commentary, then post it in a public place. But be fair warned, you may not get all roses and rainbows blown up your behind, you might get a reality check instead.
And another thing. What the heck is this "love" thing people keep throwing around? You see, in my world, love doesn't come easy, and when it's given, it doesn't easily go away. You don't just flip a switch and stop loving someone.....nor do you just flip a switch and move on to someone else. Not even in just a physical relationship. I just don't get it.
I LOVE my husband. I can't imagine my life without him. And if he ever left me......like hell would I be out with someone else the next week, or even the next month. Because, you see, I love him.
Ok...rant over. Seriously, over.
Now for the good news! Tonight, I'm headed to see my mom and pop. I can't wait! I haven't gotten to see them since forever and ever and it will be so good to get to hang out with them!
AND I get to go hang out with another fire wife on Thursday for a while. It will be so cool!!
AND I get to see a friend that I haven't seen in almost 2 years, which means she hasn't seen me since my weight loss. Gonna be a BLAST!!
Have a happy Independence Day!
Monday, July 1, 2013
Granite Mountain
I cannot even get my head wrapped around the tragedy in Arizona. 19 firefighters lost in a single moment. 19 brave souls taken away too soon. I can't imagine the grief of their families, of their community. For those that follow things like this, that makes 61 line of duty deaths so far this year. 61 firefighters that sacrificed it all to help someone like you. That makes me feel incredibly humble. To know that there are men and women out there that would make that sacrifice, to live with one, makes me grateful. Take the time today to go to your local fire department. Or to one of the state or federal ones on a local park. Thank these men and women for being willing to perish in what would be described by most as their worst nightmare. Thank them for being willing to do that for YOU. And when you grumble about how a firefighter makes too much....do your research. Just like teachers, these men and women are woefully underpaid. Stop and think...how much would it take to get YOU to run into that burning building? How much would it be worth for YOU to face a towering inferno? How much would it take for YOU to be the last line of defense between a forest and a neighborhood? God bless the Granite Mountain HotShot crew that gave all yesterday. God bless all 61 of our American firefighters that have made the ultimate sacrifice this year. And God bless those that get on the trucks today, and every day, willing to make that call if it will save one of us.
Friday, June 7, 2013
"Just a wife..."
The fire service has it wrong.
Now that I've pissed off most of the firefighters who will ever read this, I'll explain what I mean by that.
First, let me point out that I said "fire service", not individual firefighters. And that's an important distinction.
The fire service is steeped in tradition. Born of the original "blue collar" boys, folks that were willing to run in where others wouldn't go. Willing to pass buckets of water down a line to save a barn, a house, someone's life and livelihood. Willing to take risks that most of us can't even imagine. These boys worked hard, and lived by a code and an honor that most of us can't comprehend.
These traditions can be found in every firehouse in the country (and I would imagine, in most in the world). A brotherhood that can't be properly explained unless you're part of it. My husband can walk into any firehouse in the world, identify himself as a firefighter, and he will be accepted as one of their own. And when it comes to individual firefighters, I could probably walk into those same firehouses, identify myself as a firefighter's wife, and immediately be accepted and treated with respect.
Unfortunately, that same acceptance is forgotten by the fire service as a whole, and by those that represent them. And that's a shame, because I am one of the driving forces behind the fire service.
What people forget is this.....when my husband goes into that burning building to save your child, my life, my heart and my light go with him. When he cuts your husband out of a mangled car, my life, my heart and my light help guide the extrication tools. When he breathes life back into the toddler he has pulled out of your backyard pool, my life, my heart and my light help fill your child's lungs. When his gentle hands place your grandmother on a stretcher to take her to the medical care she needs, my life, my heart and my light help secure her and keep her safe. And when the roof caves in, and he has to call for help....my life, my heart and my light will help keep him safe until his brothers bring him home.
Most wives don't have to think about things like "line of duty death", and what happens if the chief's car pulls up into the driveway. They don't have to think about things like making sure that laundry gets done separately to keep bio-hazards out of every day clothes. They don't have to think about things like "family liaisons" that will help navigate the terrifying waters of life insurance and state benefits. Most wives get to kiss their husbands goodnight every night. When I married a firefighter, I knew that I would spend many nights alone.
I have had to drive myself to the emergency room, sit in hospitals recovering from surgery, attend family and church events, and a myriad of other things, by myself. Not because my husband doesn't want to be there, but because he needs me to be independent, strong, and capable enough to take care of things on my own. That gives him the security, and the ability, to be there to handle other people's emergencies. He is calm and capable, strong and humble.
To their credit, most individual firefighters recognize the importance of being a fire wife. Most of them understand that, just like our firefighters, we are a unique breed. I just wish the fire service as a whole would come to the same realization.
Until the fire service, and those that represent them, understand that the strength behind their members comes from the women that choose to support them, they are missing half of the picture. My husband has his brothers, but it's important that they start to remember there is a sisterhood that needs to be recognized as well.
I hope that eventually, they will no longer see me as "just a wife", and will start to see me as an integral part of what makes the fire service work. We enable those heroes to save lives. We enable those heroes to sacrifice, and we choose to sacrifice as well.
So, the next time someone tells me that I'm "just a wife", I'm going to tell them to kiss my foot. I'm not, and will never be "just a wife"....I am a FIRE WIFE.
Now that I've pissed off most of the firefighters who will ever read this, I'll explain what I mean by that.
First, let me point out that I said "fire service", not individual firefighters. And that's an important distinction.
The fire service is steeped in tradition. Born of the original "blue collar" boys, folks that were willing to run in where others wouldn't go. Willing to pass buckets of water down a line to save a barn, a house, someone's life and livelihood. Willing to take risks that most of us can't even imagine. These boys worked hard, and lived by a code and an honor that most of us can't comprehend.
These traditions can be found in every firehouse in the country (and I would imagine, in most in the world). A brotherhood that can't be properly explained unless you're part of it. My husband can walk into any firehouse in the world, identify himself as a firefighter, and he will be accepted as one of their own. And when it comes to individual firefighters, I could probably walk into those same firehouses, identify myself as a firefighter's wife, and immediately be accepted and treated with respect.
Unfortunately, that same acceptance is forgotten by the fire service as a whole, and by those that represent them. And that's a shame, because I am one of the driving forces behind the fire service.
What people forget is this.....when my husband goes into that burning building to save your child, my life, my heart and my light go with him. When he cuts your husband out of a mangled car, my life, my heart and my light help guide the extrication tools. When he breathes life back into the toddler he has pulled out of your backyard pool, my life, my heart and my light help fill your child's lungs. When his gentle hands place your grandmother on a stretcher to take her to the medical care she needs, my life, my heart and my light help secure her and keep her safe. And when the roof caves in, and he has to call for help....my life, my heart and my light will help keep him safe until his brothers bring him home.
Most wives don't have to think about things like "line of duty death", and what happens if the chief's car pulls up into the driveway. They don't have to think about things like making sure that laundry gets done separately to keep bio-hazards out of every day clothes. They don't have to think about things like "family liaisons" that will help navigate the terrifying waters of life insurance and state benefits. Most wives get to kiss their husbands goodnight every night. When I married a firefighter, I knew that I would spend many nights alone.
I have had to drive myself to the emergency room, sit in hospitals recovering from surgery, attend family and church events, and a myriad of other things, by myself. Not because my husband doesn't want to be there, but because he needs me to be independent, strong, and capable enough to take care of things on my own. That gives him the security, and the ability, to be there to handle other people's emergencies. He is calm and capable, strong and humble.
To their credit, most individual firefighters recognize the importance of being a fire wife. Most of them understand that, just like our firefighters, we are a unique breed. I just wish the fire service as a whole would come to the same realization.
Until the fire service, and those that represent them, understand that the strength behind their members comes from the women that choose to support them, they are missing half of the picture. My husband has his brothers, but it's important that they start to remember there is a sisterhood that needs to be recognized as well.
I hope that eventually, they will no longer see me as "just a wife", and will start to see me as an integral part of what makes the fire service work. We enable those heroes to save lives. We enable those heroes to sacrifice, and we choose to sacrifice as well.
So, the next time someone tells me that I'm "just a wife", I'm going to tell them to kiss my foot. I'm not, and will never be "just a wife"....I am a FIRE WIFE.
Monday, June 3, 2013
It's the fire life for me
You know, I've been asked if I really am ok with what my husband does for a living. Um, yeah I am. I mean seriously, how many women get to say their husbands are superheroes? Ok, maybe not super hero, but definitely hero.
Think about it. Can most women say definitively that their spouse would die for them? Or for anyone that needed them? We all give lip service to "I'd die for you", but really? Not many men have that kind of courage. Mine does.
Sure, there are sacrifices that go with that. And days/nights of worry when he is on duty or goes out on a call. And there are holidays that get designated to different days on the calendar because he's on duty. And there are risks. And, and, and.....
But really, it's amazing to be married to a man that has that kind of courage. That kind of honor. That kind of willingness to sacrifice for others.
Yep, it means that I have to learn to handle a lot of things on my own. Yep, it means that I get to make sacrifices, too. Yep, it means that I sleep alone some nights. And no, not every woman is cut out for this kind of life.
But, I can say, without a doubt, that I'm never truly alone. Case in point....my husband was off at a function for a local FD yesterday, and I had to call and tell him the A/C had stopped working. He wasn't sure when he would be home. 10 minutes later, two other firefighters were at my house to check the A/C and get it working again. Who does that? His brothers do.
So, am I ok with what he does? Definitely! Do I worry? Without a doubt. But, am I one of the luckiest women on the planet? You bet I am.
So...it's the fire life for me!
Think about it. Can most women say definitively that their spouse would die for them? Or for anyone that needed them? We all give lip service to "I'd die for you", but really? Not many men have that kind of courage. Mine does.
Sure, there are sacrifices that go with that. And days/nights of worry when he is on duty or goes out on a call. And there are holidays that get designated to different days on the calendar because he's on duty. And there are risks. And, and, and.....
But really, it's amazing to be married to a man that has that kind of courage. That kind of honor. That kind of willingness to sacrifice for others.
Yep, it means that I have to learn to handle a lot of things on my own. Yep, it means that I get to make sacrifices, too. Yep, it means that I sleep alone some nights. And no, not every woman is cut out for this kind of life.
But, I can say, without a doubt, that I'm never truly alone. Case in point....my husband was off at a function for a local FD yesterday, and I had to call and tell him the A/C had stopped working. He wasn't sure when he would be home. 10 minutes later, two other firefighters were at my house to check the A/C and get it working again. Who does that? His brothers do.
So, am I ok with what he does? Definitely! Do I worry? Without a doubt. But, am I one of the luckiest women on the planet? You bet I am.
So...it's the fire life for me!
I am
**This is a post from a previous blog...I didn't want to lose it, so have copied it here.**
My husband and I went to a funeral today. It was tragic, it was beautiful, it was unimaginable, and it was enlightening. There will be story after story about today's funeral, so I'm not going to dwell on it, but on something I learned today.
My husband is a firefighter. He's part of this special brotherhood that he's tried to describe to me over and over, and that I thought I understood. But today, I learned something about that brotherhood. I sat in a sea of navy uniforms and brass badges, and watched grown men with their shoulders bent and their heads bowed, as they wept for the pain of a brother who lost his child. Some of them, many of them, didn't even know this brother, but he is theirs, and his pain is shared. They laughed and cried at the stories being told as if they had lost a beloved nephew, and in many ways, they had.
And then these strong, honorable men - men who have vowed to give their own lives if it will save another - carried this child to a waiting fire truck, an honor normally reserved for one of their own. They stood on the side and tail boards of this truck and carried this baby to his final resting place. Along the way were more brothers and sisters, at every intersection standing proud and saluting a 4 year old who inspired the world. Strangers, but family, with their hands over their hearts, or their hats in their hands, grieving because that's what families do.
There was a sign stretched across the road, hung from the ladders of two trucks. The sign said "Dyrk Strong" to honor a little boy lost, and the strength he showed as he fought a losing battle.
While I watched these men, and learned what this brotherhood really means, I also watched the women with them. They cried, they hurt, and yet, they stood. That quiet, gentle strength that gives a man the courage to live his dream, and risk his life. They stood. And I realized, as I hugged a woman that lived through the unimaginable this week, my husband isn't the only one.
As much as he is a part of this strong and honorable brotherhood, I have become a part of something just as powerful. These are my sisters, my strength in the long nights. These are the women who very often get forgotten when we thank a first responder for what he does. These are the women that make it possible. They keep the home and hearth, they hold the families together, and they make it worth coming through the fire.
I learned today, that no matter what else I am or have been, I am.....a firefighter's wife
My husband and I went to a funeral today. It was tragic, it was beautiful, it was unimaginable, and it was enlightening. There will be story after story about today's funeral, so I'm not going to dwell on it, but on something I learned today.
My husband is a firefighter. He's part of this special brotherhood that he's tried to describe to me over and over, and that I thought I understood. But today, I learned something about that brotherhood. I sat in a sea of navy uniforms and brass badges, and watched grown men with their shoulders bent and their heads bowed, as they wept for the pain of a brother who lost his child. Some of them, many of them, didn't even know this brother, but he is theirs, and his pain is shared. They laughed and cried at the stories being told as if they had lost a beloved nephew, and in many ways, they had.
And then these strong, honorable men - men who have vowed to give their own lives if it will save another - carried this child to a waiting fire truck, an honor normally reserved for one of their own. They stood on the side and tail boards of this truck and carried this baby to his final resting place. Along the way were more brothers and sisters, at every intersection standing proud and saluting a 4 year old who inspired the world. Strangers, but family, with their hands over their hearts, or their hats in their hands, grieving because that's what families do.
There was a sign stretched across the road, hung from the ladders of two trucks. The sign said "Dyrk Strong" to honor a little boy lost, and the strength he showed as he fought a losing battle.
While I watched these men, and learned what this brotherhood really means, I also watched the women with them. They cried, they hurt, and yet, they stood. That quiet, gentle strength that gives a man the courage to live his dream, and risk his life. They stood. And I realized, as I hugged a woman that lived through the unimaginable this week, my husband isn't the only one.
As much as he is a part of this strong and honorable brotherhood, I have become a part of something just as powerful. These are my sisters, my strength in the long nights. These are the women who very often get forgotten when we thank a first responder for what he does. These are the women that make it possible. They keep the home and hearth, they hold the families together, and they make it worth coming through the fire.
I learned today, that no matter what else I am or have been, I am.....a firefighter's wife
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